we'll start a jazz band
by BeccabooO1O
Summary: The shop's door opened and like that, Clarke's impromptu break was over. She put her hat back on, weaving her pony tail through the opening in the back, and plastered a welcoming smile onto her tired face as she made her way up to the front counter.
1. I pålegg

**Guess who's back-back-back, back again-gain-gain. Becca's back, tell a friend.**

 **Sooooo, this here's a little collection of drabbles and one-shots that I've been working on for a while now. Prompts a from a little book I read, titled 'Lost in Translation' and the collection title is a line from Bill Murray's movies 'Lost in Translation' bc I'm deep like that.**

 **I don't own the 100 or anything really, sadly.**

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 _pålegg (n.): Norwegian; anything and everything that can be put on a slice of bread_

* * *

The shop's door opened and like that, Clarke's impromptu break was over. She put her hat back on, weaving her pony tail through the opening in the back, and plastered a welcoming smile onto her tired face as she made her way up to the front counter. She had been working double-shifts for the past couple weeks, covering for one of her coworkers and hoping that the extra hours would amount to some extra cash to pay her share of this month's rent.

And it was hell.

Her feet ached from being tortured all day - repeatedly - and her mind hurt even more from some of the customers she's had to deal with - 'I said I wanted Miracle Whip' even when they only used mayonnaise and of course the guys who tried to flirt with her in the hopes of a free meal. And let's not even start talking about Rush Hour.

All she wanted to do was go back to her apartment, grab a container of Cherry Garcia, and catch up on the last couple weeks' worth of Grey's Anatomy until she passed out on the couch.

And in about an hour and fourteen minutes, that dream of hers could become a reality.

She signed into the register, looking down at the machine instead of her customers. "Hi, welcome to-"

"Clarke!" She looked up just in time as Octavia Blake, her best friend from high school, lunged across the counter and pulled the blonde into a fierce hug. Clarke laughed as she wrapped her own arms around her friend,

"What are you doing here?" Clarke asked when she finally pulled away.

"Bell and I decided to spend a week here with you!"

Clarke looked up and sure enough, there was Bellamy behind his younger sister, studying the sandwich shop. She felt a surge of pride when she noticed his gaze quickly stopping at the bulletin board in the back.

"Employee of the Month, huh?" He noted.

"Does that really surprise you?" Octavia commented, grinning at the board.

He looked back at Clarke and smiled. "Not at all."

Clarke could feel her cheeks heating up and had to look away, hoping he wouldn't notice. It was all in vain anyway since she saw his smirk when she chanced a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

So he saw that then.

Great.

She hadn't seen him since she left for college and she had thought that maybe the thing between them would dwindle into nothing more and she wouldn't have time between her pre-med courses and organizations she had joined to think about him. Him and his smile. And his freckles. And his laughter. And his - well, his everything.

"So what can I get you guys?" She asked, trying to defer both herself and anyone who could read her face from that train of thought.

"Oh no, we're not going to get anything." Octavia dismissed with a flippant wave of her hand. "We're going to wait for you and then Bell's going to pay for a real dinner."

Well, now her previous night plans were shot. "You can't stay unless you buy something." She tried.

"Why do you have to make this difficult?"

"It's policy." She pointed towards a sign in the back that read, 'No Loitering'. It's not that she didn't want to go with them - trust her, she really did - but she didn't know if she could handle a night with Bellamy beside her. Telling her about his Master's program and his job at the museum back home. Asking her whether she's talked to her mom - which they both know she hasn't - and if she's been taking care of herself out here. Because that's just who he was and she feels like she's still reading too much into her relationship with him.

"Of course it is." The younger Blake sibling sighed. "I'll take a bag of chips and Bell will have a soda."

"What kind?"

"Surprise me, Princess." Her stomach flipped and she turned around before he could see the red spreading down her neck.

"Here you go." Clarke pushed the overly priced food across the counter.

"How much?" Octavia asked as she dug around in her purse presumably for a wallet.

"Comp." Clarke waved the two off when they looked at her uncertainly. "I've got about an hour more and then we can go to this Italian restaurant a couple blocks down - it's pretty nice."

Clarke was looking at Bellamy again - it's not like she can really help it, he's actually here and wants to do things with her - but then he's looking back at her with that stupid smile of his face and that stupid twinkle in his dark eyes and that stupid face that she wants to lean into and claim as hers. He's just really stupid, okay? Those biceps that are obviously flexing themselves are stupid. Even the dark t-shirt is stupid and he really should just take it off.

"We'll be here." Octavia motioned to a table by the front windows and led her brother over before looking back over her shoulder at the blonde and winking. She rolled her eyes in response, but she knew it would do her no good since when Octavia Blake caught the slightest whiff of something afoot, she poked and prodded until it either ended in resolved feelings or a lot of tears. And she didn't really know if she could deal with either at the moment.

Clarke kept an eye on the two siblings while she worked the register, hearing the familiar bickering and Bellamy's "I'm paying?" along with his sister's response, "Yes, you are." Clarke tried to stifle a chuckle at Bellamy's face - she was supposed to be busy taking another customer's order - when he looked at her and then everything just kind of blanked. This really looks bad and the worst part about it is that she doesn't really care because he's looking at her and she's handling this all like a teenage girl pining over a member of One Direction. So it's not going too well.

But as she walks out of the shop with Octavia on her left and Bellamy on her right, his fingers hovering over the small of her back, she knows she would never be able to get a handle on this like a rational adult - much less get over this. And oddly, she was kind of happy about it.

* * *

 **Come cry w me on tumblr (livelaughloveboo)**

 **Remember to Smile :)**

 **~Becca**


	2. II commuovere

_commuovere (n.): Italian; to be moved in a heartwarming way, usually relating to a story that moves you to tears_

* * *

"What exactly do you mean?"

"He wishes to court you."

"How'd you come up with that?"

"When a man of my people wishes to pursue a romantic relationship, he will anonymously give his target a series of gifts and wait for her to give him a gift in return."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I am."

Clarke huffed and left Lincoln by the mess hall. Bellamy did not 'wish to pursue a romantic relationship' with her. They were close, sure, but she never thought he would feel that way about her - the same way she felt for him, she mused. Plus she never knew where or how he had gotten her those gifts.

It had started when she entered her tent late one night and found a jacket lying on her bed. It wasn't hers - she had given that away to one of the kids one chilly night a couple weeks back. She had almost forgotten about it since it was still warm outside for the most part. And she didn't really think that anyone would notice it yet.

She had tentatively slipped her arms through the sleeves and smiled. The jacket fit her rather nicely, like it was made just for her. The inside was also lined with some kind of fur and the article itself was ridden with pockets. Her fingers slipped across a piece of paper in one of those pockets. She opened it and read a little message. This one isn't for the kids.

And so maybe she ended up falling asleep with it still on and then wore it for the duration of the next day. And then everyday. But so what? It was warm and comforting, like a hug - the hug she had shared with Bellamy when he first got back to Camp Jaha. Don't judge.

The next time was when she came back after taking inventory of the medical supplies and found a piece of paper on the surface of her makeshift desk. She had flipped the paper over and took a sharp intake of breath. On the paper was a drawing. Of her. But it didn't look like she did now. No, this was a portrait of her from another time. Before they had defeated the mountain men and before the 100 delinquents had dwindled down to less that half that. Her charcoal eyes were peering at something above - as if she were looking at someone taller - and her lips were turned towards the sky. She looked happy. Safe. Innocent. Even with the edge of darkness that seemed to crack through the sketch itself.

It was stunning.

She looked stunning.

Even with the intricate tiara in her light hair.

She had finally put the pieces together when she found the jar of nuts on her desk in her tent.

Jobi nuts, to be clear.

Clarke knew for a fact that no one except Bellamy knew about what really happened at the bunker that day. She didn't even need a note to know that this had to come from her co-leader.

So of course, she went to Lincoln because he should be able to help her out with this, right? But all he gave her was a vague puzzle of words that she had to solve. And she guessed that it was one of those 'the sooner the better' things.

She walked to her tent and settled down in her desk. She picked up the sketch of herself and smiled.

If he wanted to do this, then fine. She could do this whole 'gift' thing, too.

* * *

 **This one was okay. Leave a review if you liked it.**

 **Remember to Smile :)**

 **~Becca**


	3. III mångata

_Mångata (n.): Swedish; the road-like reflection of the moon in the water._

* * *

"You know it's a bad idea to be alone out here during the middle of the night." She heard his voice from behind her.

She didn't care.

Anyone could find her out here - Raven, Wells, a psychotic mountain-man hermit, Finn. Anyone except-

"My dad died a week ago." She heard him sit down next to her on the dock, his bare feet skimming the lake's water where hers couldn't reach. She hadn't really planned on talking about it with anyone - ever - but it was the middle of the night and she was just so tired of keeping this inside her, letting it eventually devour her whole.

"Jesus, Clarke. Why'd you even come to camp this summer?" Their summer camp had actually started about that time as well.

"Because my mother decided that now would be a better time to tell me. Even Wells knew before I did." She couldn't look her best friend in the eyes, kind of like how she couldn't look at her late-night companion because she knew that if she even spared one glance at Bellamy, her tears would begin to trail down her cheeks.

There were a few seconds of complete silence - she almost thought he had left her - before she heard the rustling of fabric. Clarke looked up just in time to feel his arm wrap around her shoulders and gently pull her into his side. She took one shuddering breath - really, that's all it took - and then she was silently sobbing into his camp counselor's shirt - the same one she was currently wearing.

Clarke turned her face toward Bellamy and grasped onto him like a life vest as her breathing grew choppy, trying to stop herself from following the moon-lighted pathway back home to her broken family.

* * *

 **So, yeah, this one was definitely a drabble - no question about it. Short and somewhat sweet, that's how I roll. Come cry with me on tumblr (livelaughloveboo) in case you've caught the Bellarke feels as well.**

 **Remember to Smile :)**

 **~Becca**


	4. IV samar

_samar (n.): Arabic; staying up late long after the sun has gone down and having an enjoyable time with friends_

* * *

They made it.

It had taken blood, sweat, tears. Lives. A lot. Too many.

One year on the ground.

And you want to know who she had to thank for their survived? The one person that had been by her side through most of it?

Bellamy Blake.

Yes. She - the whole group of delinquents, honestly - would probably have never made it this far if it weren't for him.

And Clarke is comfortable admitting that now.

After a year.

All it took was a year.

"A year!" Jasper exclaimed before he finished off his cup of the moonshine that he and Monty had been 'secretly' brewing behind the treeline. Everyone knew about it but knew that if they took action against it, then the two would just find another place to set up shop again. The whole cycle was completely pointless.

Monty and Miller were sharing a tree log and looked to be in a very deep conversation. "No. You see, reindeer have to stop to rest at some point. And if they didn't rest every four and a half miles, you would never be able to catch up to them, Miller. It's all in the science!" Moonshine sloshed out of Monty's cup.

"How the fuck do you know that a reindeer can go four and a half miles before having to make a rest stop?"

"Science."

"Science..."

Monty looked so solemn, as if he was telling Miller the meaning of life. "Science rules, Miller. Science rules."

"Clarke! Where do you think you're going?" Raven called out to her as the blonde passed by. She was sitting across Wick's lap, one hand around his shoulders and the other one grasping her metal cup. Clarke raised her own cup in response, before turning back and continuing on to the 'distillery'.

She poured herself half a cup's worth and leaned against a nearby table, watching her people enjoy themselves. They deserved it.

"Don't tell me you're going to bark at the kids for not getting enough water, Princess." Bellamy sidled up next to her, looking down at her with a lazy grin on his face.

"Not tonight, Bellamy." She tilted her head up at him and mirrored his grin. "They deserve to let loose."

"So do you." Bellamy pointed out, bumping her shoulder with his.

"You, too." Was it childish that she was telling him something that Octavia had most likely been telling him since this morning? Maybe. Did she care about the degree of maturity she was showing her co-leader? No, not really.

"Touche, Princess."

She felt her head leaning against his arm and she smiled as she looked out to their quasi-family. She knew for a fact that the kids - nor her - would have made it this far if it wasn't for Bellamy Blake.

* * *

 _Was it shit? Who knows! Come cry with me on tumblr (livelaughloveboo) if ya feel me_

 _Remember to Smile :)  
~Becca_


	5. V gesellig

_gesellig (adj.): Dutch; describes much more than just coziness - a positive and warm emotion or feeling rather than something just physical - and connotes time spent with loved ones in togetherness_

* * *

The elevator was out of service.

It was out of service when she left for her internship in Chicago three months ago and it's out of order now.

Clarke squared her shoulders and gripped onto her luggage, readying herself for the long trek up the stairs and the night she would be spending alone.

Which sucked be it's not like she could really blame them. She should have known they would have sided with him - they all had known him longer than they had known her.

 _"When were you going to tell me about Chicago?" Bellamy had asked her after hearing the answering machine._

 _"It's not like-" Clarke started._

 _Raven walked to the table, half empty beer bottle in hand. "What's going on in Chicago?"_

 _"Clarke's going there, apparently." Bellamy answered, looking sideways at Clarke._

 _"Bell-" She tried._

 _Jasper looked towards her with wide eyes. "You're leaving?"_

 _She took a deep breath and explained. "It would only be for a few months and-"_

 _"Game of Thrones night will be ruined!"_

 _"Jasper," Monty put his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to placate him._

 _"But she's the only one with HBO!" Jasper threw his hands in the air. He had almost been caught once torrenting an episode through a neighbor's wifi one time._

 _Raven turned to Clark. "What's in Chicago?"_

 _"A program at one of the hospitals." She said quickly, getting her answer in before anyone could interrupt her again._

 _"But you don't even want to be a doctor!" Octavia pointed out from across the table._

 _"I'm good at it though." Clarke defended. "Look, my mom thought it'd be-"_

 _"What? Beneficial?" Bellamy cut in. "A step in the right path of the career you don't want any part of anymore?"_

 _"I didn't even think I'd get it." She dismissed , hoping it would just stop there and they could watch their television show and she could deal with this - or better yet, not deal with this - one her own._

 _"Bullshit."_

 _"Why didn't you tell us?" Miller asked, looking her in the eye._

 _"Because-"_

 _"Because Clarke was scared. Like she always in when something new for her comes up." That's not what she was going to say, but it looked like Bellamy didn't care at that point. "Change doesn't really suit you, does it, Princess?"_

 _Hearing him use that tone behind the now-amicable nickname was like a slap to the face. And he knew it. "Bell-" She reached out to him, wanting to explain it all in a way that didn't make him eternally hate her._

 _"No." He swatted her hand away and stood up from the table. "I hope you have fun in Chicago." Bellamy left the apartment, the door was left wide open and it was so quiet in her apartment that she could hear his footsteps making their way down to the lobby and out into the night._

 _And then they all had left her like a pack following its leader. Clarke sat on the couch and looked at the wall, the episode playing in the background providing back noise for her. She didn't even notice her cat crawl onto her lap or the clock changing to three in the morning._

 _She had returned the call the next morning and left within the upcoming week._

None of them had talked to her the week before she left or while she was there. But then again, she hadn't really talked to any of them during that time either. The only people she had made any contact was her landlady - an old woman whom she had asked to check up on her cat every day - and her mom, and that was just the basic necessary small talk - 'Mom, I'm doing fine', 'Yes, I talked to Kane about moving up to the ER', 'No, I'm pretty sure they're all too busy with their own lives to make the trip up here' and of course 'Yes, Mom, I'm fine'.

And she hated it.

She unlocked her apartment door and dragged her suitcases inside behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself walked over to the window, picking her tabby off the sill and shutting the window. Margaret must have opened it while looking after Olivia, her cat. Clarke walked back and deposited her cat on the couch before walking back to her things and flipping on the light switch.

And then the screaming came.

Clarke turned around quickly and grappled for the pepper spray in her purse before spotting her friends behind the couch.

"What the fuck?"

"It was supposed to be 'surprise' not pterodactyl screeching." Octavia looked back to the group behind her.

"Sorry," Jasper said, sheepish. "I got excited."

"What are you guys doing here?"

"It's a welcome back party!" Octavia threw her hands up in delight and ran over to hug the blonde.

"And a 'sorry we were such jerks to you' party." Monty added.

"So you can put the pepper spray back in your purse now." Miller pointed to the can still in Clarke's hand

"This means that we have two hours to party until the episode and then comes the after party. Because I really think that we deserve it after the three months we've been through." Jasper jumped over the back of the couch and joined in.

"What do you mean?"

"It's Game of Thrones night." Jasper said, as if it was the thing of utmost priority at the moment.

"No, not that. The last part you said."

"Three months of illegally torrenting Game of Thrones does something to you, Clarke." He answered solemnly. "And the fact that Bellamy's been-"

"-been his usual Bellamy self." Raven cut him off, hastily pushing him out of the room. Monty and Miller followed the two into the kitchen.

Clarke grabbed her luggage and started down the hallway for her room when she felt Octavia take hold of her arm. "He really missed you, you know. I mean I know we all did, but it was like his was on a whole nother level, you know?"

Clarke stopped and looked her friend in the eye for a moment. Yeah, she knew. She knew because she felt the same way. She had missed her best friend everyday of her program, and felt guilty over how she left things"Just let me-"

"Is she back yet?" A voice interrupted her. Bellamy's voice. "Maya took forever to decorate the cake and then there was a line out the door at-" Clarke quickly turned around when he stopped abruptly and the two made eye contact. "Clarke."

She could feel everyone's eyes on her. "Is that Nyko's?" She asked, for lack of anything better to start out with.

"Uh, yeah."

Before she could properly think it through, Clarke walked up to him, giving him just enough time to put the food on the side table next to him before she jumped into his arms.

"I missed you, too." She mumbled when she felt his arms tighten around her back, wanting to let her go as much as she wanted to let him go.

Which on a scale of one to ten, would probably be a negative three.

Later that night, as they all watched the latest Game of Thrones episode, she being sandwiched between Bellamy and the arm of her couch because Jasper just had to have his 'legroom', Clarke couldn't mistake the feeling that this was where she belonged - home with the people most important in her life.

* * *

 **Sooo, I really liked writing this one! Let me know what you guys thought of it, though. (Just a head's up, I'm probably going to keeping most of these modern or some other kind of AU since I'm behind in this season and why write about something when you don't know what the hell is going on, right?)**

 **Remember to Smile :)**  
 **~Becca**


	6. VI meraki

Here's a follow-up to commuovere (the gift-giving one), the one everyone's been waiting for :)

* * *

 _meraki (adj.): Greek; pouring yourself wholeheartedly into something and doing so with soul, creativity, and love_

* * *

Clarke walked towards the largest campfire in the camp, perching herself on a log not too far away from the events, but there was just enough distance for her to watch without everyone seeing her.

Bellamy was in the center of everything, right in front of the raging fire, and speaking to the large group that had begun to form around him.

He had been doing this for a while now, indirectly inviting anyone and everyone to gather around him as he told tales of times past on Earth before the war. The children loved it and Clarke loved it, too. It was nice to not have to worry about their amounting problems for a while. And she also liked the way Bellamy's voice spread across the area, filling the air with words of adventure.

Honestly, he made the idea of grocery shopping sound like a quest that only the bravest victor could complete.

Clarke paid rapt attention as the elder Blake began to spin the story of Hades and Persephone. He told the myth differently than she had remembered hearing it as a child, instead recanting that the daughter of Demeter had ran away with Hades, a much better turn than the one she had heard where he had taken her away from her loving mother. Clarke closed her eyes and could almost smell the flowers scattered across the meadow where to two met, could almost hear the birds chirping their love songs, could almost see the maiden - draped in white with red flowers adorning her light hair - as she takes hold of the man's hand - blacked robes clad with precious jewels - and they walk off into the woods, ready to start their lives together. All it would take was a few pomegranate seeds and a promise to love each other for as long as they lived, which would end up being for all eternity.

Clarke that she could feel tears welling up at the thought of how simple the idea of a life long love was. She thought she knew what that was and how to attain it, but no such fortune really came her way. Finn and Lexa could be likened to disasters. And that was when she thought she knew what she wanted and how to get it. And now she was trying to find a way to give a gift worth giving because he had decided to consult Lincoln about what to do.

Typical.

She opened her eyes and saw Bellamy, his dark eyes peering over at her as he concluded his story and began another. She smiled and kept her eyes on him, even when he turned away.

Later that night, after the fire had dwindled down to nothing but glowing ashes and all the children had returned to their families for the night, Clarke silently returned to her tent. She sat at her desk and took out some parchment and charcoal.

It wouldn't be until the dead of the night when she would finally return to her cot, black fingers and thoughts of gods and eternal love and fruits as red as blood following her into her dreams.

* * *

What did yo guys think? I've got another part almost done and hopefully that will be the end, so we're still good!

Remember to Smile :)  
~Becca


	7. VII kilig

**_Here's the concluding piece of commuovere (this gift giving one). Eeeeeeek_**

* * *

 _kilig (n.): Tagalog; the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, usually when something romantic or cute takes place_

* * *

Bellamy watched her as she passed him, presumably on her way to her tent for the night.

She looked tired. Exhausted from more than just her daily duties in the medbay - even though he knows how hard those are, trust him, _he knows_.

But it's been different for the past week. For one, she's stayed and listened to him every night by the fire - sure, he knew that she listened in to him spin stories out of the night sky, but it was always from the back of the group, ready in case she had to hurry off somewhere else. And then there's the fact that she burned her lantern well into the nights.

How does Bellamy know this?

This knowledge would have been gained from the nights he had passed her tend, fighting with himself about whether or not he should just walk in and tell her instead of waiting for her to make the next move.

' _Just get her a couple gifts_ _,_ ' Lincoln had told him. ' _They can be small, but make them meaningful to the both of you. Tradition dictates that she will return the favor if she feels the same_.'

' _Trust Lincoln_ ,' Octavia had said. ' _It'll be fine_.'

But where had that gotten him? Passing by her tent during 'rounds' and conflicting with himself over what to do. Wondering if she had figured it out yet. Asking himself time and time again why his insides seemed to turn upside down and inside out whenever she was near. Hoping that she'd do something about it.

Anything.

Anything at all.

' _Give her time_ ' Lincoln had advised. ' _You know better that anyone how hard it is for her to stop and look at the big picture sometimes_ _._ '

Oh, did he know.

But how much longer could he wait? Pretty soon, these butterflies in his stomach would become a constant fluttering swarm inside of him, threatening to break free and tear him apart in the process.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Bellamy looked up from the ground to her tent. The lantern was still bright against the drab canvas.

His legs moved on their own accord, picking himself up off the grass and taking him to her tent like a moth being drawn to a flame.

He stopped, though, when he reached the unzipped entrance. Was he making a mistake? What if he went in there and she told him to get out? What would he do then?

 _Oh, come on_. A voice that sounded strangely like Octavia cajoled from the back of his mind. _It's Clarke for Christ's fucking sake._

A little harsh, maybe, but that's really all it took for him to open the flap of the tent further before he could think of anything to say to even say to her. His feet again carried him inside.

Clarke looked up from her desk with wide eyes, probably ready to hear about some other emergency that she has to go take care of in the middle of the night.

And there goes his insides. Flipping like a goddamn pancake.

"Uhh," Bellamy started, looking for something non-threatening to say. "Hey." Hey? Really? _Hey_? What was he, a fucking horse?

"What's wrong?" She asked, panicked.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong." Bellamy found himself rushing to ease her mind. "Everything's fine." She didn't look any bit less jumpy, though. She actually looked more so, unless his eyes were betraying him like his stomach currently was.

Her body was angled in a way that blocked the top of her little desk she had sitting next to the canvas.

 _Interesting_.

"What's that?" He asked, stepping further into the tent and pointing at the pile of papers on her desk.

"Nothing! It's nothing." She moved in order to try to cover it more.

Since when was she hiding things from him?

"Is it some kind of letter of resignation?" Bellamy asked, stepping off to the side to try to get a better look at what she was doing.

"No! Of course not!" She defended, quickly rising from her seat. Her hands began to rise up in a weak defense. He just walked closer to her.

"Then let me see it, Princess." She froze and looked up to him, apprehension in her clear eyes. She didn't stop him when he got so close to her that it wouldn't even take a half-step for their bodies to be touching. She didn't stop him when he reached behind her and lifted the stack of thick papers from the desk. She didn't stop him when he brought them in between them, looking down to study the parchment.

They were sketches. As he rifled through them, he began to recognize what they were. The Greek Pantheon, Athena, Artemis and Apollo, Orion, Odysseus and the Sirens, Helen of Troy, Persephone and Hades. These were all from the stories he had been telling at night. It was like she had looked into his mind and directly transferred them to the paper.

They were beautiful.

"They're not finished yet." Bellamy barely heard her as he examined each and every one, amazed by the detail. "They're for you." She continued on, filling the silence. "I wanted to tell you," She paused. He finally looked at her from the sketched. "I wanted to tell you 'yes'."

His stomach started fluttering to the beat of his accelerating heart. He set the parchment down on the nearby bed, his eyes never leaving hers. Now or never. He lowered his head to hers and gently pressed his lips against hers. She returned the light pressure and that was all he needed to take hold of her cheeks, anchoring her to him. He could feel her hands moving up his upper arms to his shoulders. She slowly started to walked backwards, pulling him with her to the desk. He helped her up and came even closer, standing in the space between her legs. Her fingers began to tug onto the dark strands of his hair and he could hear himself moan against her lips. Those said lips forming into a smirk under his insistent ones.

Bellamy could feel everything.

Everything except the butterflies.


	8. VIII glas wen

_glas wen (n.): Welsh; 'blue smile'; one that is sarcastic and mocking._

* * *

"Bellamy." Raven read off the slip of paper. The boy - could he really be considered a boy anymore, though - in turn rose to his feet and smirked as his lanky body loomed over the group. Raven slowly grasped another paper out of the clear bowl.

 _Please not me. Please not me. Please not me._ Clarke silently chanted. She definitely did not want to be locked in a coat closet with Bellamy for any amount of time, much less seven minutes. She wouldn't be able to stand his smirk for that long - she could barely tolerate it when their gazes would meet momentarily. _Please not me. Please not-_

"And Clarke." Raven looked up at her and grinned like a wolf. "Well, would you look at that." _No_ _._ "We won't start the timer until we hear the door shut, right, Miller?"

He nodded in affirmation. _This could not be happening._

"C'mon, Princess," She looked over to Bellamy. "Here's your chance. I know how bad you want to get your hands all over this bod." He was smirking at her, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

She scoffed a rolled her eyes. "Who even uses the word 'bod' anymore?" She got up and followed him out of the room, trying to ignore the excited looks from everyone around the table.

This was so stupid. Who even played seven minutes of heaven - or hell, as she'd prefer to call it at the moment - in college. They weren't little hormonal teenagers any longer. Why did she even agree to play the stupid game in the first place?

Clarke sighed in defeat. Bellamy had done that infuriating smirk and told her she had a stick so far up her ass that she belonged outside the White House - whether he meant as a part of the fencing or as a protester's picket sign, she wasn't sure.

Bellamy stopped suddenly and Clarke bumped into his back. "Excited, Princess?" He taunted. She could hear the challenge in his voice.

This was so childish.

"You wish." She answered promptly.

 _That_ was childish. She slightly shook her head at herself before pushing past Bellamy to the dark closet. He followed her with ease. Bellamy slammed the door shut behind him and she could hear Jasper make a fuss about Miller's procedure of starting the timer.

Seven minutes couldn't take that long, right?

"So..." She could hear Bellamy's voice from somewhere to her right.

She turned to the sound. "What?" She asked, irritated with the whole situation.

"I was just gonna say that we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He huffed. "Why do you have to be so defensive about everything?"

"I'm not defensive about everything!" Why did he have to do that? He was so infuriating. But she still liked him. And Raven knew that. It didn't really matter anyway, now did it. If he actually liked her, then he wouldn't have been ready to just spend the time in awkward silence.

"Just admit that you are!" He was closer now and Clarke could feel the ghost of his warm breath on her cheek.

 _I'll show_ _you defensive_ _._ She thought as she made what would probably be one of the worst decisions of her life.

And she's made plenty of bad decisions - this game, for one.

Clarke reached blindly for his face with her hands, ignoring his subtle flinch from the darkness, and pulled it down to hers. She pressed her lips onto his, following through with this horrible decision - she didn't really see any other way to go about this.

Was he even kissing her back? No, his mouth was stiff against hers, unresponsive and closed off.

Oh God, what had she done? _Why_ had she done that? Oh no, oh no, oh no, _oh no_.

This could _not_ be happening.

Why was she still pressed up against him?

She began to pull back, ready to retreat further into the coats and disappear for the rest of the time she's been sequestered to this little slice of hell she was currently in. Would she apologize? Would she speak to him ever again? She wasn't sure. She couldn't even look in his general direction right now.

Clarke slowly let go of his cheeks and started to turn away. She was now free. Free to wallow in embarrassment and self loathing. Free to over analyze everything, like she always did. She was-

She yelped when something took hold of her wrist and pulled her back. A hand touched her face and she suddenly felt pressure against her lips.

 _Bellamy_ _._

Clarke's hands reached up, her fingers taking hold of his hair, as she kissed him back. He stepped closer, his chest flush against hers.

Clarke:1 Bellamy:0

She had always wondered what it felt like to taste his lips on her own - usually with out-of-context scenarios involving him pushing her up against a library shelf, her pushing him down onto a dorm room bed, or him shutting her up during one of the many heated arguments the two always had. Okay, and so there might have been a few involving a cramped closet - so sue her. Clarke really needed to get laid, as Raven ever so eloquently put it.

He kept moving, backing the two up until she felt her back hit a solid surface.

Clarke:1 Bellamy:1

He was both everywhere and nowhere at once. All she could feel was him, and not even that was enough. Everywhere his hands went - her hair, her arms, her hips - he left fire in his wake, yet her skin yearned for more, ready to be burned alive by him. Her senses were filled with him. It still didn't seem like enough for her. It was overwhelming. _He_ was overwhelming. But she wanted more.

Clarke:1 Bellamy:6

His lips left hers, leaving a sloppy trail of open-mouthed kisses on his way to the juncture where her neck and shoulder met.

Clarke:1 Bellamy:7 - fuck it, she'd give him 8. What? It was hot.

Her eyelids fluttered and she let her head rest against the flat surface behind her. Did she moan? Maybe. Was she embarrassed by it? Not at the moment, no. She knew she'd reign victorious in the end.

While it was great - amazing, spectacular, out-of-this world - she Clarke really didn't want any hickeys tonight, although he was doing a great job.

She pulled his face back up to hers, needing the feeling of his lips on her right away.

Clarke:3 - you know, for both getting his mouth away from her neck and for getting back on her own. Bellamy:8

She could feel his fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. His palms played flat on the skin under her shirt and then started to run up and down her spine. She gasped, feeling the ever-so-desirable burn. She could also feel him smirk against her lips.

Clarke:3 Bellamy:9

If he reached double digits, she be screwed for sure. Although to be honest, she was pretty sure she was going to get screwed one way or another - a win-win, Raven would say after snickering at Clarke for eternity. But, still.

Her fingers left his dark hair and trailed down the planes of his back until they found their destination in the back pockets of his jeans. After letting them just hang out there for a moment, wondering why it had taken her so long to do this, she pulled him even closer to her - anchoring her to him. Because he wasn't close enough, okay?

Clarke:5 Bellamy:9

He stilled against her hands and she might have felt something hard press against her. She smirked at that possibility. Her lips left his mouth and latched onto his neck, feeling his pulse quicken against her tongue.

Clarke:7 Bellamy:9

One of his hands moved from her hip and she was about to protest - she really was - but then she heard it smack against the surface she was being pressed into, as if he was trying to hold himself up.

Clarke:8 Bellamy:9

He groaned her name and she was about to fuck the tally she had been trying to keep in her head because he was right here and affected by her.

Clarke:9 Bellamy:9

Her mouth traveled up his skin and she could feel his face turning to meet hers in another fevered kiss.

But then the surface she had been leaning up against disappeared behind her and for a second she wondered if this was all just a dream - would she fall and land on a bed, because that would be pretty nice, not going to lie. Clarke felt him stumble after her before resetting himself - and her, by extension - upright again.

She leaned away from him and opened her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light shining into the closet. And there was Bellamy. He looked disheveled and slightly confused with his opened mouth and mused hair.

There's also a faint pink mark beginning to bloom on his neck.

Clarke:10 Bellamy:9

His dark eyes locked onto her lips as they rose into a triumphant smirk. She looked at Raven, who had her hand around the door knob - meaning that Clarke had been pushed up against the closet door - and then back at Bellamy. He still hadn't moved from where he was, looking at her as if she wasn't even real.

"Come on." She said, a little hoarse. "Let's go back. They're probably waiting to have their own turn." She meant it jokingly, but Raven's wide smirk told her it came out anything but.

"They got bored." She explained flippantly. "Not enough closets."

Clarke just rolled her eyes and went back to the room, Bellamy stumbling in after her and still in a daze. The smirk had turned into a shy smile by the time she sat back down, Bellamy plopping down next to her.

Bellamy took her home later that night and never really left.

Not that she was really complaining, though.

* * *

Raven looked through the punch bowl as she waited for the closet door to close.

 _Clarke_. Raven could recognize Clarke's neat penmanship anywhere. _Bellamy_. And of course, Bellamy's handwriting had to be the complete antithesis to Clarke's. _Bellamy_. Miller's not much more legible, but definitely more distinctive, writing followed. _Bellamy_. Octavia's script, not as neat as Clarke's, but so much more readable that her brother's. _Clarke_. Raven's own slip read. _CLARKE! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PICK CLARKE._ Yep, definitely Jasper's excited scrawl.

Raven chuckled to herself. Her plan went without a hitch. They were so going to be giving her a shout-out at their wedding reception.


	9. IX pasan zapra

_pasan zapra (n.): Malay; the time it takes to eat a banana_

* * *

"Princess, I bet you can't make that waste basket shot."

"Blake, I know for a fact that I can."

[STATIC]

"How much you wanna bet this floor meeting is about Murphy stealing Kane's lunch?"

"I would, but I think we both know you'd win."

[STATIC]

"Bellamy, the next call is _not_ going to be for Murphy's transfer to another branch."

"Wanna bet, Princess?"

[STATIC]

"Bet I can eat my banana faster than you can."

"You're on."

[STATIC]

"Think I can get Kane to admit that he's irrationally in love with me?"

"Twenty says you can't, Blake."

[STATIC]

"They're going to the storage room to fuck."

"Absolutely not."

[STATIC]

"Twenty-five bucks says Wick's the top."

"... Fine."

[STATIC]

"Bet you can't reach the top of the door frame."

"You know I can't do that."

[STATIC]

"Ten says Jasper and Monty will walk out of the break room screaming."

"No way."

"Three. Two. One."

"Well, shit."

[STATIC]

Raven stopped the recording that had been compiled from the past couple months and looked at the two in pity before rolling her chair back to her desk. Both Clarke and Bellamy wouldn't meet the other's eye - as if they didn't know that they were the talk of the water bubbler and the lunch breaks and the collective 'bathroom breaks' that had been occurring in the past couple years.

It was just too sad for to watch anymore and Raven was the only one in the office with the balls to put an end to it. The two had to get laid.

Preferably by each other. Preferably multiple times. And preferably there would be long term commitment.

"By the way," She called from across the office room. "I'm always the top, Blake."

Clarke held her hand out and waited for Bellamy to pay up, a smirk on her face.

"Princess,"

"What?"

"Bet I can take you out for the best night of your life."

"Pick me up at seven."

It was.

* * *

 **AN. Your girl's back!**


End file.
